


Lost and Found

by jairyn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anisoka, F/M, Force Bonds, Star Wars - Freeform, otp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23175001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jairyn/pseuds/jairyn
Summary: A month passed in a downward spiral as Anakin faced the world without his padawan. But after a conversation with his wife about the possibility of her never coming back, he decides to track her down. Struggling to find her himself, he enlists the help of a private investigator who specializes in finding people, but he doesn’t hold out much hope he’ll ever get to see her again. But the PI is good at what he does and they’re eventually reunited. Now though… they have to face the truth of what happened and why she left and he has to face something else that he’d been trying to ignore… that he needed her far more than he thought he did. How far will he go to resolve it though? What will he sacrifice to do so?
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker/Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 87
Kudos: 204





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My friend @mac_warspeaker had a PI character and graciously allowed me to borrow him for this story. The name of his business was something I came up with though, so she might change it later in other stories about him.

“Why have you been so quiet lately? You feel like a completely different person.” Padmé asked as she brushed her hair and painted herself in anticipation for a meeting with fellow senators. This was the first time in a couple weeks they’d gotten to spend any time together, but he was too depressed to enjoy it.

“Ahsoka left,” he whispered, perching himself uncomfortably on the end of the bed. It was the first time he’d really gotten to talk to her since it happened.

“But you proved her innocent!” Padmé said in surprise. “Why did she leave?” She started fitting the wig over her freshly brushed hair and didn’t really look at him, focused on her task. It was just as well, he doubted he was very good company as of late. No matter what else came up, he still found himself wishing Ahsoka would reappear, claim she made a stupid mistake by leaving and they could move on from there. Then things could go back to normal. Every day she didn’t reappear, the ache deepened. 

It had been a month now and he was so low it soured everything else. Including his conversations and time with his wife, it made him irritable on missions, it strained his relationship with Obi Wan and the other Jedi, and just all around made everything suck. To the point that any time he was alone, he was thinking of her more than anything or _anyone_ else. 

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, rubbing his hands together. “All she’d say was that she didn’t trust the council or herself anymore. And that she needed time to figure it out.”

“Well,” Padmé said, turning around at last. “Give her time then. I can’t imagine the trial was easy on her. She certainly expressed quite a few doubts when we were going over her defense. It’s a shame too, the Republic needs all the help it can get right now. I’m surprised she’d abandon her duty so easily.”

“I don’t think it was an easy decision for her to make,” he sighed, struggling to keep eye contact with her. She was practically echoing the same things Obi Wan said about it. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume they were ganging up on him just to get him to shut up about it. But, how could they?

Ahsoka was... _well_... she’d been more than his padawan. When she’d been assigned to him, he was certain she’d just be a constant pain in the neck. But instead she’d turned out to be someone he very much trusted and depended on. He couldn’t even count the number of times in the past month he’d turned around expecting her to be there. Or the times he’d reach out wanting to touch her only to brush his hand through a memory. 

He supposed it had never really crossed his mind that someday she wouldn’t be standing there by his side. It was foolish of course, if she’d stayed in the order, they wouldn’t always be a team anyways. Eventually she’d have gotten knighted and likely be off leading her own troops and fighting other battles without him. But at least she’d still be around, or a comm call away. Or they’d pass each other in the hallway and joke around like old times.

He never knew it was possible to miss someone this much, someone he knew was still alive. It ate away at him, day in and day out. He didn’t even miss Padmé this much when they were apart. And he didn’t understand when she’d become so important to him. 

“You’ll have to learn to accept it then. If she hasn’t come back yet, she might not. It’s a reality that you can’t let hinder your other responsibilities,” Padmé said in a somewhat similar lecture tone that Obi Wan was a fan of. “I know you were fond of the child, but she made her choice and you still have people to take care of.” She patted him softly on the cheek on the way into her closet. “Besides,” she called from the other room. “I’m surprised it bothers you that much considering how often you used to complain about having to have a ward to begin with.”

_A lot has changed since then_ , he almost said, but decided against it. His wife was too busy getting ready to really focus on the conversation anyways. While her words were true and practical, they did little to cheer him up. They didn’t even comfort him, if anything, they only made him wish Ahsoka was here that much more. She was always a good listener. She usually had some quip or story to distract him from the drowning pain. Her smile made it easy to put one on his own face. Her optimism made even the worst days seem tolerable and the feel of her, in the force, in the flesh... it eased his nerves. Just a squeeze on her shoulder could calm his racing heart or center himself in the force. A glance in her direction could focus him and reassure him. Her presence alone could make him stand taller and feel more confident.

And he’d felt none of those things since she’d left. He just felt lost, empty, broken. Like he was barely even half the man he’d once been. He needed Ahsoka, in a way he’d never needed anybody else. And that thought terrified him. It terrified him and it confused him and he didn’t dare utter it aloud to anyone, least of all, his wife. Because Padmé would never understand and he might lose her too. 

“How do I look?” Padmé asked, reappearing. 

He stood as she seemed to float towards him. “Beautiful,” he breathed, reaching for her so he could kiss her.

“No kiss, you’ll mess up my makeup,” she said, slipping out of his grasp before he managed it. “If you’re still around after my meeting, perhaps we could have a nice cozy night in?”

“That sounds nice,” he said softly, trying to hide his disappointment. He must not have managed it because she laughed and poked him on the nose.

“You can kiss me all you want later, don’t throw a tantrum,” she teased. And with that, she vanished out the bedroom door and a few minutes later he heard her leave with Threepio out the main door. 

He sighed and sunk back down onto the edge of the bed. He dropped his face in his hands and tried to ignore the way the emptiness settled around him. All he needed was some way to occupy his time until Padmé returned tonight, but all he wanted was to find Ahsoka. If only he had any idea where to even start looking.

He sat there for barely five minutes before immediately having to move again. He _had_ to find her. He just had to. He wanted to give her the space she desperately needed, but _he_ needed her too badly to just wait until she comes back. Like Padmé said, she might not, and he couldn’t live with that. If nothing else, she needed to know he still _wanted_ her to come back. He’d give her space if she still demanded it, but he did not want her thinking she couldn’t come home. Finding her was almost more important to him than a cozy night in with his wife. _When the kriff did that happen?_

\---

He stood at the top of the steps feeling the rush of memories wash over him. It still hurt, it hurt so bad. Why did she have to leave him like that? He knew she’d been hurting; it was written all over her face and he felt it beneath that too, in the force. But leaving? He’d thought about it a million times, but the idea scared him. Someday it would come. He didn’t want to be a Jedi forever. There was too much he wanted out of life to live under their rules.

But no matter how bad he wanted to, he couldn’t abandon his troops, or the chancellor, or Obi wan… and he didn’t understand how Ahsoka could have done that either.

He finally moved from where he’d been standing, drowning in the memories and headed towards the edge to look towards the city streets. The problem is, he didn’t even know where to start looking for her because when she’d left, he’d stayed back and watched her disappear down the steps. He’d been too stupid to run forward and at least see where she went after that. Even if he didn’t know where she ended up finally, he’d have at least had a direction to head first.

He wandered down the steps, trying to put himself in her shoes. Where would she go? What would she do? Did she know anyone down here? He reached out his senses trying to find her. He could feel her, which was a good sign. The problem was, he couldn’t pinpoint it. With so many levels, her energy seemed to weave in and out of the buildings with no clear point of origin. The only reason they’d found her before when she’d been running from authorities was because everyone had been looking for her. Not just him and his troops, _everyone_. He half thought about calling the 501st to help him search for her, but if he couldn’t find her with his Jedi senses, what hope did they have? He even thought about putting a bulletin out for her, but he didn’t want to put her through that again. And very possibly, that might mean she wouldn’t talk to him even if he did find her.

He slumped down on a bench after several hours of useless wandering. He’d followed her energy every way he possibly could and felt no closer to her. It was starting to feel hopeless that he’d even find her at all. There had to be something he could do. Some way to get a message to her even if she didn’t have her old comms. But everybody he’d asked at the temple or that she’d known hadn’t seen or heard from her since she left either.

He dropped his face in his hands, rubbing it in aggravation. Why’d he have to care about her so much? It was obvious she didn’t want anything to do with him anymore or she’d have been in touch! He cursed her for leaving and slumped back against the bench and sighed. He was torn between wanting to give up and not care, and still wanting to find her. He wanted to know she was okay. He wanted to tell her he missed her. He wanted her to be here, with him. He wanted his best friend back. And suddenly he hated that he’d gotten attached to her to begin with. This was ridiculous.

He stared blankly across the road and slowly a symbol on a door sign started coming into focus. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a Togruta symbol. That didn’t make any sense in this part of Coruscant. Even with the thousands to millions of aliens on the Republic capital, there weren’t many Togruta here. He didn’t want to hope that he’d somehow found her anyways, but he was suddenly too curious to ignore it.

He strode across the intersection without paying much attention to anything else and stared at the sign. He didn’t know what this symbol meant exactly but beneath it was written “Seeker investigations.” How stupid did he have to feel now that he was considering hiring someone to find someone he should be able to find himself? That was, _if_ this business actually would find someone for him… Though he wasn’t holding his breath that a non-Jedi would have more luck tracking her down. It was better than sitting around frustrated about it constantly.

With a sigh, he pushed the button for the door and headed inside. He felt stupid but he didn’t care anymore. He just wanted Ahsoka back. Was that too much to ask? The office wasn’t very big; the door opened to a small lobby with two simple chairs and then a hallway to a door at the end with “Constantine Verrin, P.I.” written on it in gold letters. He debated just sitting down and waiting versus walking back towards the office. No one came out to greet him, so he finally just went to the door and knocked.

“Come in,” said a male voice from the other side of the door. He pushed open the door and stared at the dark office for a second until his eyes adjusted to the dim light from one small lamp in the corner over a half dead plant. “Welcome to Seeker Investigations, what do you seek?” The man sat forward leaning his elbows down on the desk and bringing his fingers together. His voice had sounded tired, with very little emotion or inflection. The question felt too broad and it certainly shouldn’t have set off his emotions, but the philosophical nature of the question sent him reeling instead of made the answer simple. What did he seek anyways? Besides Ahsoka at the moment…

“I’m, _uh_ … looking for someone,” he said hating himself for even being here.

“Then you came to the right place, finding people is my specialty.” The guy put a datapad in front of him and pointed to the low wooden chair that looked way too fragile to hold him. He debated with himself for a second before finally sitting down. Though now he felt like a child waiting for a lecture from somebody he could hardly see over the desk. “I need to ask some questions to get the case file started.”

“Okay,” he sighed. It wasn’t like he could just say go do this and then leave rather than sitting around feeling more pathetic by the minute.

“Your name?”

“Anakin Skywalker.”

“Occupation?”

“Uh… Jedi,” he said sheepishly. But if the guy cared at all about that, he said and showed nothing.

“Figured by the robes and the lightsaber,” he said while tapping things into the datapad.

“Does that bother you?”

“Not at all. As long as you can pay, I don’t care where you came from.” He pointed back to the datapad as if to gesture for him to not bother threatening him and focus. He rolled his eyes. “Who are you looking for?”

“A friend…” His voice caught in his throat and he surprised himself with the sudden rush of emotion those two words caused him. Well… he _thought_ she was still a friend… The man raised his brow at him.

“Hope it wasn’t a good friend if you can’t find them,” the man said, sitting back and studying him. “Most friends leave contact information if they _want_ to be found.”

“I’m not paying you to question why!” he said indignantly, his hands balling into fists. He knew this was a bad idea.

“You aren’t paying me at all yet. But if you’re going to be that vague, I’ll go out in the street and find the first person that answers to ‘friend’ for you.” He crossed his arms.

“Well ask your damn questions and stop being so condescending,” he spat.

“Apparently not all Jedi can control their emotions.” The P.I. leaned forward and picked up the datapad again. “What is your ‘friend’s’ name?”

He didn’t like the way he said it, but he tried to reel it in. “Ahsoka. Ahsoka Tano.”

“Species?”

“Togruta,” he whispered.

“Well that should make things easier,” the man murmured. “Physical description?”

“Uh, orange skin, white and blue montrals, blue eyes.” The P.I. put the datapad down and studied him for a moment. “What?”

“She must have been _some_ friend,” the guy said thoughtfully. He bristled a little even though there’d been nothing in his tone to imply he was picking at him.

“What do you mean?” he asked in annoyance.

“Well… it’s obvious you want to find her badly enough to hire someone outside the order to do so, but every time I ask for details you give me the most vague answers possible. While I don’t need to know _every_ detail to find someone, I can tell you’re hiding something about her and about why you want her found.” He turned the datapad around and pushed it to the edge of the desk so he could grab it. “She means a lot to you even if you won’t say why.”

“And why would you assume that?” He glared at the man that was sounding more and more arrogant by the minute. Then he glanced down at the datapad and saw that instead of filling out a form like he’d thought he was, he’d opened the holonet and searched for her name. He was now staring at an article about the temple bombing and a picture of Ahsoka in binders being led to the courtroom. This picture hit him so hard in the gut he almost fell out of the tiny chair. It hadn’t ever occurred to him that anything that happened was in the news, even if he was vaguely aware that he, especially, was talked about a lot in the media. But to see her trial be so publisized bothered him far more than he’d expected.

“Well, I’ve helped find a lot of people and if you were looking for a fugitive, you’d have called the authorities, not a two bit private investigator on the lower levels of Coruscant.” The man sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his short blondish hair. “I thought her name was familiar when you said it, now I know why.”

“She’s not a fugitive,” he said, trying to work calm back into his words but was unable to stop looking at the picture from the article. “Not anymore. The charges against her were dropped because we found the real culprit.”

“Innocent people that have been accused of a crime don’t just disappear unless they have a reason to hide.”

“She’s not guilty!” he said adamantly, getting increasingly irritated with this man and his questions.

“Then why do you want to find her so badly?”

“Because… because…” He dropped his shoulders in defeat. “I need to know she’s okay. What happened wasn’t her fault but she left anyways and…” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“You love her,” the man finished.

“I miss her, okay? Is that what you wanted from me?” He shoved the datapad back at him. “I just want her to know that.” He stood up, feeling more in control now that he was towering over the other guy.

“So that explains it,” the P.I. said, reaching forward and taking the datapad back, not seeming to be even the slightest bit perturbed by his emotional response to any of this. He’d probably seen plenty in his line of work.

“Explains what?” he demanded, tired of the games this guy kept playing.

“Jedi aren’t allowed to have relationships, that’s why you keep being so vague. But whoever this girl is to you, she means a lot. If you were talking to someone you trusted, you’d have given me a million details about her eyes, the way she smiles, the way she talks or moves rather than the bare minimum.” He stood up too and he hated that the man was slightly taller than him. “Well, I can find her for you. That’s what I do. But when you see her again, you should tell her what you just said to me. I study people for a living and if she left without telling you where she went, it means she doesn’t have a clue what she means to you.”

“She was my padawan,” he sighed, dropping back into the chair. “And my best friend. Then one of our own turned on the order and framed her for the temple bombing. The senate expected us to turn her over to them for the trial because more than just Jedi were hurt in the explosion. But to do that, she had to be tried as a regular civilian and was expelled from the order. She was proven innocent and released, her Jedi status returned to her but… she left anyways. She said she just needed time to think, to figure things out, but I haven’t seen or heard from her since.” The man, Constantine, sat down on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms. “I’m trying to give her the time and space she needs, but… I miss her and I’m worried about her. I know she can take care of herself, that’s what she’s been trained for… it’s just…”

“You think she’s in trouble or needs help?” Constantine asked.

“No. I don’t know. She’s probably fine, but I’m definitely not. I just want to talk to her, but as you already said, obviously she didn’t give me a way to keep in touch.” He sighed and tried to wipe his eyes without drawing attention to what he was doing. “I’m just afraid that the longer she stays out of touch, the more she’ll start thinking she can’t come back or that we don’t care.”

“I thought Jedi could sense other Jedi?”

“I can,” he said in annoyance. “I know she’s still here, on Coruscant. I just don’t know where. It’s not like tracker accuracy. I can sense if she’s really close, but mainly I just know she’s still on the planet. I’ve been wandering around for hours and I haven’t even gotten close enough to an area she must be in. I’m not sure how you’ll find her even, I just don’t know what else to do.”

“Well, I may not have Jedi senses, but there’s more than one way to find someone than mystical powers in the force. If you’re sure she’s here on Coruscant, I’ll find her.”

“Call me as soon as you do. Even if I’m on a mission, I want proof you found her.” He stood up again and pulled out his comm so he could give Constantine his personal number. “But I’m not holding out hope you’ll manage it. Togruta are predators, she’ll know if she’s being followed or hunted and probably give you the slip.”

“I know all about Togruta,” the man said. “I was adopted by a Togruta couple when I was a young kid. But since you have so little faith in my abilities, I won’t make you pay until I find her. Usually I ask for half up front.”

“So the symbol on your door was from Shili.”

“Yes.”

“Look... Ahsoka is... special. She’s been through hell. I know if she wanted to come back to the order, she’d have already done so.” He sighed, clasping his hands and rubbing them together. “And maybe I’m being stupid for trying to find her when she obviously isn’t trying to find me, but... I just can’t let her go. At least not without making sure she knows... the truth.”

Constantine straightened and looked him over. “I’ve heard a lot about the relationships between a master and their padawan,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s nice to know some of them _do_ care.”

He glanced at the private investigator feeling a rush of sadness he was sure was reflected in his eyes. “I never wanted one,” he admitted. “Now I want her back.”

Constantine nodded. “I’ll find her.”


	2. Chapter 2

His comm beeped and he ducked back into an alcove waving his troops ahead. As soon as he’d glanced at his wrist he knew exactly who it was. Since this was his private line, not a Jedi frequency. He clicked the button expecting to talk to the P.I. he’d hired, but instead a picture of Ahsoka appeared above his wrist. He stared at it a moment in disbelief and then leaned back against the wall.

He’d found her. He’d actually found her. He wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or pissed that Constantine had done what he couldn’t. He brought his other hand up because he wanted to touch her face. But it wasn’t until the hologram flickered that he remembered she wasn’t here yet. 

At least she was alive, not that he’d expected anything different. She looked okay, maybe not very happy, but not unhealthy. There was a certain kind of sadness in her eyes that hit him hard in the heart even through the holoimage. Coordinates and location information appeared beneath it and he quickly saved it to his device so he could follow it when he returned to Coruscant. Then there was a short message, “found primary location, will continue to monitor activity until you give orders otherwise.”

He wanted to ask the man so many questions about how he’d tracked down one person in the millions of people on the city-planet. Especially when there’d been next to nothing to go on except a name and a physical description. He wanted to be impressed, but at the same time, it also unnerved him a bit that Ahsoka, especially having been a former Jedi, had been so easily found. What if something else had been trying to find her?

His comm buzzed again and the picture of her was suddenly replaced by his captain. Though he tried really hard to listen to Rex’s message, he felt the sudden absence of her all over again. Which was stupid, because she still wasn’t here and hadn’t been for awhile. But seeing the picture of her had given him hope and for a moment it was like she was actually there again. 

He nodded to Rex and clicked it off, and somehow managed to resist the urge to pull up her picture for one last look. Get through this mission, go home. His spirits lifted at the realization that he’d see her again soon. She might not be happy he’d tracked her down, but at least she’d be in front of him again. Real. Someone he could touch and hug and hold onto. And he was more excited about that than the possibility of seeing his wife next time he was on Coruscant.

“Hang in there, Ahsoka,” he whispered aloud to nobody. “Soon you’ll know I didn’t forget about you.”

It was hard to focus on the mission because his mind kept wandering back to her and the moment the ship landed he was heading down to the lower levels without another thought. It wasn’t until he was halfway down before he remembered the council would be expecting his report. Though suddenly, he didn’t really care about the council, or the war, or procedure, or anything. Nothing else felt as important as seeing her again. 

He made it to the coordinates Constantine had sent him and stared up at the sign that flickered. A machine shop? What was she doing here? He shrugged and moved to the door. Now that he was close, he felt her really strongly. Just like he’d told the P.I. now that he was in the vicinity, she lit up the force like a bonfire and he knew he’d see her when he walked through the door. 

He just hoped... she’d be as happy about seeing him. He sighed and tried to take a few steadying breaths. He had to tell her. He had to know. Before he hit the button to let himself in, the door opened and he stared, his mouth agape, at her now standing there in the doorway. 

“I had a feeling you’d be appearing any day now, Master,” she said, crossing her arms. “As soon as I noticed I was being followed.”

“I-” No other words came and he closed his mouth. There was so much he wanted to say but the pain in her eyes broke all his coherent thoughts. Instead he reached out and touched her on the shoulder. She didn’t flinch or tense but she didn’t exactly relax into the touch like she used to. She did, however, drop her arms back to her side.

Before he could think too hard he pulled her forward, forcing her out of the doorway and into his arms. He hardly even noticed the door closing behind her, or the smell of grease, or the flickering lights. He just wrapped his arms around her and leaned his cheek against her montrals. 

She didn’t say anything. Nor did she resist. And at some point she put her arms around his back and hugged him too. He didn’t want to let go, he just wanted to hold her like that for as long as possible. Thankfully though, he didn’t start crying and make himself feel more pathetic than he already did. 

But the longer the hug went on, the more he relaxed, like she was lifting the weight of the world off his shoulders just by standing there. Like every ounce of tension was releasing its stranglehold on his muscles and bones. And suddenly he wasn’t sure anymore if he’d gone looking for her to make sure she was alright, or to make sure _he_ was.

Either way though, he was too glad she was here right now to care _why_ he’d really gone after her. When she finally looked up at him and he saw the deep brilliant blue eyes again, he had the strongest urge to kiss her. To confess how much he’d missed her. To beg her never to leave again. _Anything!_ Anything but having to say goodbye again.

“Are you okay?” she whispered finally. “Did something happen?”

“No, Snips,” he croaked. “I just really, really missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she breathed, looking away. “But I’m not ready to be a Jedi again... I still... I need more time.”

He looked her over. “Will you ever come back?” he asked, the sorrow pumping through him again.

“I don’t know... maybe?” She hadn’t said the words, but he felt the answer. She had no intention of coming back. Not now, not for awhile, probably not at all. His heart sunk again. 

“Ahsoka...” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t track you down to drag you back to the order.” She seemed to visibly relax. “But I did want you to know you _could_ come back still, if you wanted.”

“Thank you.” She looked like she was going to say something else, but her eyes changed and snapped to something over his shoulder. He knew that look well and automatically reached for his lightsaber without even looking.

“You can come out now,” she said, grabbing his arm so he didn’t go chasing the shadow he barely even saw. He was surprised to see the tall form of Constantine seem to materialize out of the shadowy alley and admittedly it unnerved him that he’d been there the whole time and _he_ hadn’t even noticed. “So now I have a face for the person that’s been following me for three days.” 

He glanced at her, but she didn’t look angry. If anything she looked somewhat bemused. “When did you notice?” The P.I. asked, flashing a smile. 

“In the market, when I was buying lunch on Zhellday,” she smirked. He looked between them. 

“He said you’d notice, but I see you didn’t try to give me the slip anyways.”

“I wanted to,” she murmured. “But I didn’t feel bad intentions from you, which meant somebody that wasn’t trying to hurt me had sent you after me.” She waved her hand. “Since Anakin is the only one that would have done that, I let you do your job.”

“I appreciate it,” Constantine smiled again. “Though it’s not as much fun looking for people that don’t mind being found.”

“Has he paid you yet?” she asked.

“I was just about to get to that.”

“Well, I...” He felt kind of stupid. He didn’t have any credits on him and admittedly, he’d been so focused on needing to see her again, he’d forgotten he owed him money.

“How much?” The man gave her an amount. “I’ll be right back.”

He watched her go, feeling awkward. “How did you find her?” He turned to Constantine.

“I have a handy little tool that allows me to filter security footage of checkpoints,” he murmured, rubbing his chin. “Didn’t take long to find one of only a dozen Togruta that passed through these sectors in the past week.” The man studied him again, much like he had in the office a week ago. “It’s none of my business, but you were right about her being special.”

“What are you saying?” Was that jealousy he felt rising in his throat?

“I told you, I study people for a living and she’s a good one.” He tipped his head towards the door she’d disappeared through. “If I were you, I wouldn’t let her get away again.” He brought his hand up to stroke his chin. “Of course if you did, you could always hire me to find her again. I could see this being profitable. Though I admit, I’ve never been paid by the person I was supposed to find before.”

“I would have paid you,” he said indignantly. “I just would have had to go to the temple first and I just... wanted to see her. What are you even still doing here?”

“I was still monitoring her activity, as I said I would. To make sure she didn’t slip away before you returned. Besides, when people want to find someone else... they don’t always have the best intentions. I figure it’s my duty to make sure I didn’t make a mistake leading someone to them.” Constantine leaned back against the nearby building and crossed his arms. 

“I would never hurt her,” he whispered, choking on his words. 

The man turned his light blue eyes back on him. “I know,” he said. “Not intentionally anyways.”

“You say that like you know me.”

“I guess when you do what I do for a living, you learn a lot about human nature. Well, nature in general. People are selfish, they want things they shouldn’t have, want people that aren’t good for them. They dance through forests of hearts, trampling them completely until there’s nothing left but branches as broken as dreams. And maybe you were selfish too, for wanting to find her. But you’re one of the few that actually cared about _her_ wellbeing.” He pulled the datapad out of an inside pocket of his long brown coat. 

He took it from him and looked down. It was an obscure article this time, not one of the main media outlets. The cover picture though, was him and Ahsoka, smiling at each other after having completed a mission. 

“She really loves you,” Constantine whispered. “Don’t make her regret it.”

They both straightened when Ahsoka returned. She counted out the money and handed it to the private investigator. “Not everyday I pay someone for stalking me,” she muttered. “But I guess I should thank you.”

“Next time you should just give him a number. Though that’s not as much fun.” Constantine nodded to them and turned to go. “Oh, and if you get separated again, let me know.” The man vanished into the shadows and he stared after him for awhile, mulling over the things he’d said. Not his jokes about needing his services again, but the things he said about Ahsoka. None of it was stuff he didn’t know, but... he’d never really thought about it before.

“So you found me, now what?” she asked, putting her hands out like he was going to arrest her and he gave her a look. She laughed and dropped them back to her side. He stared at her hands for a moment suddenly wishing he could hold them. 

“Ahsoka,” he struggled to catch his breath when she turned her big eyes back on him. He was so confused. Why was he acting this way? “I need you.”


	3. Chapter 3

“The Jedi that never needed or wanted anyone, needs _me_ , of all people?” she asked in surprise. Though he’d noticed she’d also blushed as though what the P.I. had said was true, she didn’t know how much she meant to him.

“I’m not sure when it happened,” he tried to joke, but it was too true to be funny. He really didn’t know when it had switched. He’d known that he relied on her, that he trusted her to be there, to watch his back, to take care of his troops when he couldn’t. He just couldn’t figure out when she’d become someone he couldn’t live without. Though if he’d learned anything since she’d left, it was that. He’d admired pretty faces when they passed through his life, even though he’d chosen someone already. But he’d never considered a future with any of them. Not even one night, or a quick release. At least he thought he hadn’t. But now that he was staring at Ahsoka again, after the month of missing her more than he’d thought possible, he was realizing that he _had_ expected to have a future with her.

Maybe it was something he’d never thought about consciously, but it had worked its way into his brain anyways. She’d _always_ be there. He would _always_ have her. He would _always_ be able to turn to her, and she’d _always_ support him. And her _not_ being there… had turned him inside out. Could you want that kind of future with your former student? It was true, she’d been his padawan, but it had never really felt like that. Maybe in the beginning it had. But even when she called him ‘master’ it never felt like he’d been the one in the position of power. It had never felt like the dynamics between him and Obi wan. Not even when he’d had to lecture her or punish her. It had always just been them talking, like they were on the same level. Like she was a fellow Jedi knight, running missions by his side. Someone he trained with, someone he hung out with, someone he talked to about life.

She’d been a friend, not someone he was expected to take care of. He did, but that was less from obligation or the responsibility of being a teacher and more because he didn’t want to see her get hurt or worse. At first, he thought _that_ kind of responsibility _had_ been dumped on him, but she hadn’t stayed that way for long. She’d matured quickly, she’d often known better than him when to fight and when to back down. In many ways she’d been more the master than him. He relied on her judgement, he appreciated her ideas and quick thinking on missions, he trusted her to call him down when he wasn’t being careful. There was little disparity between them in skill level which only further solidified that she hadn’t simply been a youngling with no experience. In fact, she’d almost been as good as some of the masters he’d fought beside throughout the war. So it was easy to forget she was a padawan; a student. Not to mention, they weren’t that far apart in age. He imagined if their age difference had been more dramatic, he never would have thought of her as more than a kid.

But could a friend become like what he had with Padmé? Until today, he’d never really thought about wanting to kiss her, or hold her hand. He’d always liked touching her, but he’d never thought about it that way. It had just been a comfort thing. A hug, a squeeze on the shoulder or hand. Leaning on each other during breaks, or falling asleep huddled up to keep warm or to not feel so alone after the worst missions.

He blinked and refocused on her face and while he’d always admired her eyes and her features, he’d never before noticed how truly beautiful she’d become. “Anakin?” she whispered and he tried to give himself a mental shake. This wasn’t good at all… was this why he’d tracked her down? That couldn’t be right… he had a wife. He had someone to go home to. He had prestige and status and…

He brought his hands up to her face and leaned down to kiss her. Even though every logical thought in his brain told him not to, he couldn’t stop the sudden need that had coursed through him. He should have held back, but his feelings went far deeper than he thought and it all spilled out his mouth. 

Her lips were full and soft, her skin smooth and warm. He was surprised by how easy and comfortable it was to kiss her. She didn’t push him away, she didn’t even tense, in fact, she seemed to be enjoying it too. 

He slid his fingers beneath her lekku, brushing her neck and enjoyed the way she shivered and pushed into him more. For a second he wondered if this need to kiss Ahsoka stemmed from Padmé pushing him away earlier, but the thought passed before making a loop back in his brain to say her name again.

He finally let go, looking her over. She looked a little dazed but then blinked and looked up at him. “Whoa,” she breathed, and even though he should have been regretting it, he smiled anyways. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that, but... it had felt really good. Like... they did it all the time. Which didn’t make any sense... “Uh... is there a reason you kissed me?” she asked, sounding a bit nervous. 

“I don’t know,” he said. It sounded pathetic but he really didn’t know why he’d just done that. All he knew was that he’d wanted to, so he did. Of all the things to be impulsive about... he cringed inwardly. 

“You don’t know?” She raised her brow at him. “I admit, Anakin, I’m a bit confused. You hired someone to track me down, but not to take me back. Now you’re saying you need me and then what? Kissing me? You said nothing happened but you’re acting weird.” 

“You didn’t like it?” He felt this weird strain of dread trickle through him. Yes, he’d kissed her. Yes, he’d made the choice to pull away. Yes, he was all confused right now, but the idea of her not liking it was far more terrifying than any other consequence he could currently imagine. 

“I did, but... what’s going on?” she said.

“I don’t know, Ahsoka,” he murmured, bringing his hands up to rub his face. “I’ve missed you like crazy this past month. I’ve been lost and depressed and... I wanted to give you space like you asked. Everybody said the same thing; you made your decision, I had to let go. But...” He sighed. “Every day you didn’t come back just got worse and worse. And when I saw you again I just... I don’t know. You’re not the only one confused.”

She stepped closer and took his wrists, pulling them away from his face, then sliding her fingers down to his hands. “Leaving you was the hardest decision of my life. I wanted to stay with you, I really did. But I was hurting so bad. I was confused, I felt betrayed, I felt like my world had been turned upside down. Like I didn’t really know anything at all. Or _anyone_...” She gripped his hands a little tighter as she got a far away look in her eyes that meant she was reliving that terrifying moment. He pulled her closer without thinking. She leaned her head forward, her forehead pressed against his chin. “Until I could make sense of things again, I didn’t want to bring you down. But... being away from the order, it’s only made my confusion worse. Nothing we were taught really makes sense out here. And I just have this feeling, I can’t shake it, that the Jedi are wrong... about _everything_.”

She tipped her head back to study his face. “But...”

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked. But before she could slip away, he caught her wrists this time. 

“I don’t know what to say, I don’t know how to reassure you, but what I do know is that you still matter to me. Jedi or not. I don’t care what they say, I’m not letting you go.” He pulled her closer so he could hug her again. Trying to calm his racing heart and fight the fear now that she was rested against his chest one more time. “But I don’t know how to be a Jedi without you,” he admitted. The truth of that statement hung heavily in the air around them. 

The only time he’d ever been a good Jedi was when she’d been there by his side. All other times he was failing at it miserably. He couldn’t follow their rules, he didn’t use proper protocol, he never listened to anyone and he probably had gotten way too many people killed. 

He felt her sigh and tighten her grip around his back. “Anakin,” she whispered finally. “For as long as I’ve known you, I knew you were not meant to be a Jedi. I don’t know what you were supposed to be instead, but I knew the Jedi code did not, and _could not_ apply to you. I tried to guide you when I felt like I could, but I turned a blind eye to my own oaths. I won’t ask you to leave the order, but I will ask you to search yourself. Go deep inside that fortress you built around your heart. Because there’s a truth in there you need to find. And a choice you need to make.” She stepped back out of his arms and looked him over. “When you find it... well, you know where I’ll be.” She gestured to the shop behind her. Then she gave him a small smile and headed back inside. 

He had half a mind to follow her, still drunk on the need to keep her close. But the words she’d said had glued him to the spot. She didn’t think he was meant to be a Jedi. The truth is inside him. He had to make a choice... every single thought of all of those terrified him beyond reason. But then the first words the P.I. had spoken to him popped back into his head, _what do you seek?_


	4. Chapter 4

He couldn’t focus on the council as they talked, barely managing to answer their questions and report about his mission. They hadn’t been happy he’d been late as it was, that he’d disappeared for a couple hours before checking in. But every time they started discussing next steps or the other missions that needed handling, he just kept hearing Ahsoka’s concern that the Jedi were wrong about everything and that he wasn’t meant to be a Jedi.

Those thoughts were currently drowning out everything else, even his annoyance when Obi wan decided it was time for another lecture. He’d hardly heard his master at all. It was worse than normal as the fear seemed to grip him tighter and tighter. It was getting harder to breathe.

If the Jedi weren’t right, if he wasn’t meant to be here, what were his options really? He doubted Padmé would be okay with him just dropping out of the war effort and lounging around in her apartment. Even if it meant they could be a real couple. But right now, he didn’t want Padmé, or Obi wan, or the other Jedi. He didn’t even want to see the Chancellor or his troops. He just wanted to go back to Ahsoka, to feel that calm and safe feeling she always gave him. Because even when he’d said those words, her presence had made the words less scary. She knew how to exist without the order, she knew how to help him. She might even be the only one that knew the truth she was expecting him to find inside.

Once he’d managed to escape the temple and the questions and the lectures, he wanted to head straight back to her. But for whatever reason, he took a detour back to that first park he’d stopped in before. Staring at the door of the Private Investigator he’d hired to find Ahsoka.

At first he felt stupid assuming Constantine would even consider helping him with this. But he pushed the button and went inside anyways. He knocked on the door again. “Come in,” came the response. “Welcome to Seeker- oh,” the P.I. trailed off when he saw him. “Did you lose her already?”

“Uh, no…” he said, noticing the man had taken a defensive stance once he’d stood as though he was expecting trouble. “I was just… I was hoping you might have some advice?”

“You do know I’m a private investigator, right? Not a shrink or a marriage counselor?” Constantine walked past him and pointed to the letters on the door. “P.I. Private investigator…” Then he crossed his arms. “Unless you need advice on how to not lose your slippery togruta ‘friend.’”

He scowled, again not really liking how he put inflection on the word ‘friend.’ “You keep asking me what I seek, but what if it’s not a person?”

“It’s an expression, a tag line, for my _business_. I track people down, I investigate things the police don’t take seriously or don’t have the resources for. I _seek_ answers. Not philosophical fancies.” Constantine sighed, dropping back into his chair and putting his feet up on the desk. “Can’t you commune with your force or something? Or go on a journey to find a mystical monk in a treacherously located monastery through dangerous land, to get a one word answer that doesn’t actually answer anything?”

“You have a very interesting perception of Jedi,” he muttered, sitting down on the way too small wooden chair again. “Yes I can commune with the force as you say. Yes I could consult the masters, except they’re in the temple here on Coruscant not some fantasy land.”

“Then why’d you come to me?” The P.I. ran his fingers through his hair again looking tired. 

“You didn’t hesitate to offer advice before, and... I wondered what else you might know.” He brought his hands together and looked down feeling stupid. Coming here again was a bad idea. Even if this guy had actually managed to track down Ahsoka, he probably didn’t want anything more to do with them. But he just had this nagging feeling that Constantine had an answer he needed, or a way to focus the search Ahsoka expected him to do. “You seemed to have things all figured out.”

“I didn’t think it was that easy to fool Jedi,” Constantine said, standing up again. He made his way to a stand in the corner and pulled on a long brown trench coat with black fur trimmings and grayish quilted leather sleeves. “Come on.”

He stood too. “Where we going?”

“If I have to give a Jedi advice, I’d better have a drink first. That way if it all goes wrong, I can blame the alcohol.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring,” he muttered. Constantine just gave him a dead stare and then again gestured heavily at his door sign. He rolled his eyes and followed the P.I. out of the office. Yeah okay, maybe he wasn’t a shrink. But the way he spoke about Ahsoka, about people in general... he couldn’t shake the feeling that Constantine had answers. Advice. Something profoundly observant that could help point him in the right direction. And arrogant or not, Constantine was intelligent, and a good guy. He wasn’t convinced he’d purposely lead him astray. 

And that was what he needed right now; an unbiased, outside perspective from someone that didn’t have a stake in any of it. Someone that would lay out what he saw with honesty and no ulterior motives. Or maybe he just needed a friend right now. 

Constantine led him to a cantina down the street. Based on how he navigated it, landing in a somewhat private table in a dark corner, he assumed it was a place he frequented. Confirmed further by the waitress setting a drink down in front of him a few minutes later when all he’d witnessed was the P.I. nodding at her. She then turned her purplish eyes on him and raised a brow. He’d seen the way she looked him up and down and he felt the distinct unease that she’d either recognized him personally, or recognized that he was a Jedi. Not like it wasn’t obvious. To save the time and embarrassment of trying to figure out what to drink, he just ordered the same thing and stared at it dubiously when it was put in front of him a short while later.

He wasn’t exactly opposed to alcohol but he didn’t like to drink much because it dulled his senses and awareness of his surroundings. And in places like cantinas that could turn rowdy at any second, or any number of scumbags could start trouble, was the last place he wanted to be caught unaware. Though admittedly, tonight he was tempted to make an exception, since whatever he was supposed to work through for Ahsoka he knew was going to be messy.

“So, uh...” Before he managed a question, Constantine raised a finger to him and then knocked back his drink and ordered another.

“Okay, shoot.” The P.I. sat back against the booth and stared blankly past him at the crowded, noisy room. “What do you seek?”

“Couldn’t we start a little smaller?” he sighed. “I don’t know what I seek, that’s the problem.”

“Well, you came to me. You ask the questions then.”

“Those things you said about love... when you were so sure that I loved her and she loved me... how did you know?”

Constantine raised a brow at him, but what at first looked like mild annoyance turned quickly into something sadder. “In my line of work, you get to see the worst in people; the demons and monsters they hide beneath constructed walls built on lies. It’s worse than war and violence sometimes; seeing the tangled ways they fuck everybody up around them. But every so often, you get a small piece of hope; a couple trying to find their missing child. Someone that cares enough about someone else just to want them back, no matter the price. On the lower levels of Coruscant... that’s not a common experience. We turfers get caught up in our own survival, we stop caring about the people around us.”

“I admit I don’t know a lot about life outside the order, especially the lower levels and the slums,” he murmured, finally sitting back and taking a sip of his drink.

Constantine stared at his drink blankly for a minute before looking up at him. “Most people that want someone found, as I said before, don’t always have the best intentions. Just because you’re a Jedi, didn’t necessarily mean you were any different. But from the moment you walked through my door, as annoying as you were, I knew something was driving you to find her more than some kind of duty. A Jedi as famous as you- don’t give me that look, of course I looked you up- shouldn’t of had much reason to find someone no longer on their radar.”

“But-”

“I do my research on every case I take. I asked around, read everything I could find. What happened to her was horrible. Per the Jedi code, however, if she left, she was pretty much forgotten. Monitored only as a potential threat, otherwise... essentially erased from their thoughts and concerns. That’s how Jedi think, right? If you don’t blindly follow their way of life, you’re nothing to them. If you can’t be or do exactly what they expect, they kick you out.”

He stared at the P.I. for a moment feeling the intense need to argue and insist he was wrong, but at the same time overcome by the trickling reality that that was pretty much exactly what had happened to her. Other than an occasional reprimand from Obi Wan to let her go, it had been as though she no longer existed in their minds. Not a single person, not even the younglings that she’d cared for had mentioned her name, asked about her or wondered if she was okay. If any of them cared, they didn’t show it and he, had been forced to keep his feelings to himself and focus only on the war and more pressing matters. 

“A month away and she shouldn’t be anything to you anymore,” Constantine continued. “But instead, you not only still cared, you were desperate enough to hire someone to find her.” He took another drink and then rubbed his eyes. “When I asked you questions about her, you tried to sound indifferent, but I saw past that. For you to still care that much, to want her back despite everything telling you no... that, to me, is love.” Constantine knocked back the rest of his second drink. “Pictures are worth more than words, and every picture I found of the two of you, that love for her was written all over your face.”

“You don’t happen to have your datapad with you, do you?” he asked nervously.

Constantine opened his jacket and pulled it out, setting it on the table. “I assume you want the pictures I’m talking about?”

“Yes, but... can you find any of me next to the senator of Naboo?” His voice got really quiet as he struggled to speak. He felt dread pumping through him at the thought of what he’d see. Maybe there’d be nothing and he’d never have to know, but he had a sudden _need_ to know. Was love really that obvious? Something that anybody could see in a picture?

Constantine pushed the datapad towards him and he reluctantly picked it up, taking a deep breath before looking down, grateful the P.I. wasn’t asking any questions about why he suddenly wanted to see something that had nothing to do with Ahsoka.

He looked at the few pictures that Constantine had found so quickly, his heart sinking. He studied them intently before zooming in on the last one. Padmé was standing between him and Ahsoka, they were just walking, the three of them as they often did. But he knew with absolute certainty, the smile on his face was because he wasn’t looking at his wife. He was looking at his padawan. In a way that he didn’t see in any other picture with Padmé. Constantine reached forward and clicked a button and the screen switched to all the pictures he’d found on the holonet of him and Ahsoka. 

He might never have thought of it if Constantine hadn’t of mentioned it, but now it was crystal clear. There was a distinct difference in how he looked at Padmé versus how he looked at Ahsoka, and that realization nearly brought him to tears. “One you love, the other you desire.” He looked up at the P.I.’s face, but he wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was leaning back, both hands absentmindedly holding the empty glass in front of him. His light blue eyes were distant and sad. “I told you I know a lot about Togruta, I also happen to know a lot about Togruta Jedi. She had every reason in the world not to let me track her and could have easily lost me plenty of times, but even though she didn’t leave you a number, she wanted you to find her. She hoped you’d come after her. I’m glad she was right.”


	5. Chapter 5

He didn’t really know what to think right now. The words Constantine spoke... they made sense but... he felt the weird creeping fear start slogging heavily back into his brain. The one that liked to whisper in his ear about all the things he’d lose and all of them things he loved. The one that told him he’d never be happy, that he’d never be free, that he was meant only for suffering, longing and loss. It ate away at him, knocked his feet out from under him. It made him crazy and reckless and violent. It whispered all the horrible things he thought aloud. And then it would laugh in his face every time it came true.

He loved Padmé, he had to. She was his wife. She was everything. She was beautiful and soft, but also resourceful and brave. She was charismatic and fierce but thoughtful and well... nice. He’d yearned for her for years, ached to know her in every way on every level. The fear of losing her strangled all rational thoughts, the idea of living without her completely unbearable. That was love right? Desire didn’t run that deep. Desire was superficial and empty, quenched in single moments of heated passion. No what he felt for Padmé, it had to be love. Which meant that it was Ahsoka he desired.

Constantine must have it wrong. He must. He ached for Ahsoka, but it was a need to be near her, to be close. To feel her on a physical level; a touch, a hug. Something he could reach to and grasp onto. Something comfortable and real. It was her presence he missed. He didn’t have the same drive for her. The desire to spend his life with her, to know her in the bedroom, so intimately. No, he’d never really thought of her that way. She wasn’t his wife, she wasn’t even an option for that.

“I don’t have a lot of experience with love,” Constantine said, cutting into his thoughts. “Regardless of what it may have sounded like to you. But I like to think I know what it should be, though all I’ve ever really seen is what it’s not.” The P.I. started drinking the third one that had been placed in front of him. 

He looked down at his own drink, the first one he’d been sipping as though he had the thirst of a baby scrap rat. He was trying to decide if he should take that as confirmation that Constantine was in fact totally wrong about the situation.

“But to me, I think marriage is about building each other up. Loving each other no matter where you are, supporting each other through tough times. I think your spouse should be your best friend too. The one you turn to when you’re scared, or need comforting. The one that is always looking out for you. I think a marriage built on lies and in secret only serves to create unnecessary and irrational fear.” Constantine sighed, looking sadder than before and very distant as though everything he’d said weighed on him too. But he’d been too tense through all of it to fully absorb what he was getting at.

“Who said anything about marriage?” he choked a little on his words, shifting uncomfortably. Constantine grimaced and reached for the datapad, and he instantly felt dread pumping through him again.

“Funny how the Jedi claim to be all knowing or able to sense shit that others can’t, but don’t understand the concept of public records, gossip and the holonet.” The P.I. slid the datapad over to him after typing on it for a few seconds. “To be honest, you should be grateful there’s a public record of it, otherwise your marriage wouldn’t even be valid.”

He stared at the marriage license Constantine had put in front of him of his and Padmé’s supposed to be very secret and discreet marriage. His hands shook enough for the words to blur in front of him. “Anybody can find this?”

“ _Public_ records...” Constantine tapped the top of the document and then took another sip. 

He felt a rush of anger. “I hired you to find Ahsoka, what the hell were you doing digging into my life and invading my privacy?”

“I told you, if I’m going to find people, I want to be sure I’m not leading dangerous people to them. I always check public records to make sure there aren’t outstanding restraining orders, previous instances of domestic abuse, drug problems, divorces that ended badly, etc.” Constantine said, sitting forward and giving him a piercing stare.

“You think a Jedi would have any of that?” he growled, his irritation rising.

“Well I happened to find a Jedi that’s legally married when I know for a fact that the order doesn’t allow that. So, let’s just say being thorough pays off.” The P.I. rolled his eyes. “And you’ve already demonstrated anger issues, lack of restraint and recklessness. I feel it’s my duty to protect the people I’m tasked to find as much as I can.”

“You don’t know me at all,” he said angrily.

“And I don’t want to.” Constantine dropped some credits on the table and stood up. “But you’re the one that came to me for advice, despite me repeatedly telling you I’m not a shrink. You wanted it, so here it is; Ahsoka has every reason in the world to not want anything to do with you regardless of how good of a teacher you may have been to her. She’s smart, she’s savvy, and I have no doubt she knew more about your relationship with the senator than you think she did. Knowing her feelings for you would go unrequited, she used her trial as an excuse to leave and start over. Figure out who she is away from the order and you. But despite purposely not leaving you a way to find her, she still hoped you would. She hoped you’d realize how much you loved her in that big dumb brain of yours and come after her. You did, congrats! The problem is, you’re still too attached to someone else. Someone else that you built a secret relationship with full of lies, sneaking around and pretending. Can’t say I blame you for wanting her, she’s got a lot going on. But after everything I’ve read, seen and watched between you and Ahsoka, I can pretty much tell you without a doubt that your pretty senator won’t ever fill the holes you have in your fucked up life. But again, I’m a P.I. not a marriage counselor or a shrink, so take it for what it is.” He started to walk away. “Oh, and if you’re going to screw Ahsoka over, you better be careful how you do. I’ve seen her fight, you won’t win.”

“Hold on, where are you going?” he said in frustration, following him out of the cantina. He did not like being talked to like that, and he still wasn’t ready for this conversation to be over, even if he didn’t like what was being said. 

“I need some fresh air,” Constantine sighed. He wasn’t sure why he followed him as far as he did, but at first, he thought the P.I. was leading him back to Ahsoka. Instead they went quite a few levels lower than that until the buildings and streets were so run down and laden with trash it was nearly impossible to weave through them without touching anything.

“Where are we going?” he asked nervously. “And you consider this fresh air?”

Constantine stopped abruptly at the entrance to an alleyway and stared forlornly at nothing he could really see. As far as he could tell it was unremarkable, nothing that should mean anything to anyone.

“What is this place?” He felt the heavy weight land on the investigator’s shoulders.

“A memory,” he whispered. His voice solemn but almost reverent.

“What kind of memory?” But Constantine didn’t answer, and they dropped into this strange heavy silence before the P.I. shook himself and looked down at the ground.

“It’s obvious you’re not ready to hear what I have to say so I don’t know what you want from me. You asked for my advice and I gave it, not my fault you don’t like it. I don’t know you; I don’t know Ahsoka, and I obviously don’t know the senator, I only know what I’ve read and what I’ve seen. What I do know though, is that you can’t have them both. It’s selfish and unfair to them. To try to do that means you’ll become one of those people that dance through their lives fucking them over. So, pick one and let the other one go.”

“How am I supposed to pick?” he asked in frustration. He’d never be able to choose between them even if that was an option. They filled different parts of him. 

Constantine looked over at him, his eyes full of pain and sadness, but also his usual dead stare as though he was endlessly tired. “Do you want a hot body or someone that actually keeps you warm?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he called after him as Constantine turned and walked away. The P.I. didn’t answer, he just waved his hand over his shoulder and disappeared around a corner. He should go after him and demand a real answer, tired of these stupid games. He’d hoped the P.I. would make it clear what he should do but he’d only muddied the water further. And why would he assume that Padmé is who he should let go? That was just absurd. He loved Ahsoka, sure, but Padmé was his wife. He’d chosen her because he’d loved her for years. She was his only one. The only one for him. 

And yeah sure, maybe he’d been missing Ahsoka a lot, but not like that. She will never fill those holes. 

He ducked when something whizzed by his head and stuck to the wall behind him. He looked around but didn’t see where it had come from. He turned to see a note hanging from it and reached up to grab it.

_You’re an idiot_ , the note said. _I don’t even have to know Ahsoka to know she’s the better option. But let me know when you’re going to let her down, because this I want to see. But hey, if you actually do the smart thing for once, I know a good divorce lawyer._

He just stared at the note in disbelief. How had he had time to disappear, write a note and throw it back at him in the few seconds he’d stood there deep in thought? No, he didn’t like what Constantine was telling him, but at the same time… there was something nagging in the back of his brain that maybe the P.I. _did_ know something he didn’t.

When he’d kissed Ahsoka… he really didn’t know why he’d suddenly wanted to. Nor did he really understand why he’d enjoyed it so much. He didn’t really see her that way, but if he didn’t, why had he wanted to kiss her? Was it possible to want someone without knowing you wanted them?

He ducked a second time. “Oh, come on!” he yelled in annoyance. “You’re being childish!”

“Yeah, well you’re being stupid,” came the response from somewhere down the dark streets. He couldn’t pinpoint it though, so he begrudgingly turned around and picked up the second note.

_What do you seek?_ this note asked.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t have come to you!” he replied in exasperation. He scanned the street looking for any sign of movement but didn’t see any. Constantine wasn’t a Jedi, or a force user, but he definitely had stealth. Though that made him wonder how Ahsoka had noticed him so quickly. Then again… Ahsoka had her predatory instincts on top of the Jedi ones, so that probably explained it. “Are you just going to shoot notes at me or actually act like an adult?”

This one hit him in the chest and he just sighed in frustration before begrudgingly bending over and picking it up. _It’s more fun this way,_ the note read. _Besides, you need some sense knocked into you._

“I have plenty of sense!”

_Right…_ He could feel the sarcasm in the last one.

“Alright, Mr. Know-It-All. Why would you think Ahsoka is the better option when you don’t know anything about any of us?” he asked out loud. He stood there in tense anticipation, just waiting for the fifth note to hit him or go by him. But nothing happened and he was starting to question whether or not Constantine was even still around.

He looked up when he felt it and saw that the P.I. was sitting on a roof with his legs over the edge just staring at him with his head tipped to one side. It was strangely reminiscent of the way Ahsoka would look at him with her intense curiosity. He was starting to see the ways this man was in fact raised by a Togruta family even if he wasn’t one of them. But was that the reason he was pushing him towards his former padawan instead of his wife?

“One doesn’t have to be able to use the force to see love when it’s in front of them,” Constantine murmured finally. “Love is written in every look, every touch, every word. There’s a lot of different types of love though; love between friends, lovers and lust, trust and respect. I like to even think there’s such a thing as soulmates. You don’t know what you seek, but something beyond a sense of duty sent you after her. If your wife was who you really desired on every level, in every way, you would have reveled in the fact that another option was no longer in the way.” The man jumped off the building and landed lightly beside him. “You may not be conscious of what’s in here-” He poked him in the chest. “But it’s there nonetheless.”

“But…”

“Jedi are forbidden to have attachments, are they not? Or relationships of such a personal nature as marriage, or even more than one-night stands?” Constantine asked.

“Well, yeah…”

“So, no matter how important being a Jedi is to you, you’re willing to risk it for love, for _her?_ ”

“I don’t want to live without her…”

“Fear of losing her is worse than death? Worse than losing your status, position, everything?”

“What do you know?” he sighed in frustration and crossed his arms, not liking the prying or how close the P.I. was getting to the truth of the matter.

“I know that’s not love.” Constantine straightened and walked past him back to the entrance to the alley that they’d stopped at before. “Love is about wanting someone else’s happiness more than your own. It’s about loving people no matter what even if that leaves you out of the equation. It’s about supporting their growth, helping them reach their highest potential even if you’re just one step along their journey.”

“How do you know that’s not how I feel about my wife?” he asked nervously, trying to hide the way the words and doubts were trickling through him.

“You might, I don’t know.” Constantine waved his hand in the air dismissively. “But is that how she feels about you? What about Ahsoka? Do you feel that way for her? Does she do that for you?” The P.I. turned around slowly and studied him again. “Holding onto them so tight, sacrificing everything for them… that might seem selfless but it’s not. There is nothing more selfish than holding onto everyone because _you_ fear losing them. Ahsoka put her feelings aside for you. She removed herself from the equation because she knew what you really wanted. She loved you from a distance instead. She let go believing you were where you wanted to be. Was she wrong?”

“No, of course not,” he said quickly.

“Then why didn’t you let her go?” Constantine asked. “Why didn’t you let her stay out of the equation if you had everything you wanted already?”

“Because, because…” his voice caught in his throat.

“Because you know you need her even though you’re trying so hard to deny it. You know she’s the answer to what you seek. You know she’ll love you more than anyone else, and better yet, you know you won’t have to fight for her affection or fear to lose her.” To his surprise, Constantine brought his hand up and bonked him on the head. “At least you would know that if you’d stop being stupid and blind.”

He rubbed his head and stared at him. “But-” Constantine just tipped his head to him, put up his hood and headed down the street, leaving him standing there overwhelmed with everything he’d said. He stood there blankly for a few minutes before another note hit him in the chest. He stared at it absentmindedly for a second before bending over and picking it up. It was nothing more than a name, a job title and an address, scrawled out. He debated with himself for a second and finally folded it up and tucked it in his belt pocket.


	6. Chapter 6

He wandered around for awhile. The only thing he really remembered doing was shutting off his comm when Obi Wan called. He couldn’t handle a lecture right now. He just felt lost. He didn’t want to believe the things Constantine had said despite his insistence he had it wrong. He couldn’t believe he was even considering calling the lawyer. He didn’t want to lose Padmé, he really didn’t. She was too much a part of him. 

But was it truly possible to be _that_ wrong? The idea of not having Ahsoka though, that scared him on a totally different level. And it was because of something the P.I. had said; _you know you won’t have to fight for her affection or fear to lose her_. That statement had hit him like a stone wall. Because it was true. Other than leaving the order after what they did to her, Ahsoka had never left him willingly. She’d done everything in her power to stick with him through thick and thin. But Padmé? 

It always felt like he was competing for her attention, _and_ affection, if he were honest. He got outrageously jealous every time she talked to another man and he’d almost killed Clovis over it. And maybe that slimo deserved it, but... it still didn’t change the fact that he never really felt like he, well... _had_ Padmé. Which didn’t really make sense, of course he had her. She was his wife, but... how hard did she try to be there for him?

She didn’t. And now that it had been pointed out to him, he couldn’t stop seeing it. Was it possible she didn’t really love him? Was it possible she didn’t even _want_ to be married to him? Had he truly misread _everything?_

The smart thing would be to go back to her right now. To find out for sure. But he dreaded the answer. He couldn’t face it, not right now, not for awhile. He knew what he was going to do. The answer he needed more than anything right now, would be found at the end of the craziest thing he’d ever done.

He probably shut off his comm at least five more times before he got there. In fact, by the fifth time, he dropped it into a dumpster and ignored the fear that was pumping through him at what he was about to do. 

“Ahsoka!” he called, as soon as he entered the building. 

He heard a bonking sound and her curse under her breath. He should have felt guilty for startling her, but he couldn’t feel anything other than cold right now.

“Who are you?” A girl appeared in front of him. “A Jedi? What do you want?”

“Ahsoka,” was all he managed, his mouth going dry.

“Well-" the girl was interrupted because Ahsoka pushed past her.

“It’s okay, Rafa,” she said. 

“You know him?” the girl asked in surprise.

“Yes.” It was all Ahsoka said before turning to look him up and down. She looked concerned and confused. She stared at him for a minute.

“Will...” His throat tightened. “With me...?” 

She studied him with her piercing and intense eyes and every second she failed to speak, the dread thickened. Finally she nodded and for the first time since he decided to come to her instead, he relaxed slightly. 

She turned and disappeared further into the shop, returning a few minutes later with a bag over her shoulder. “I don’t know if or when I’ll be back, so do what you want with my bike,” she said to the girls as another, younger one appeared too. 

“You’re leaving?” the younger girl said, sounding kind of pouty. 

“I have to,” Ahsoka said, turning back to him. 

“Who is he?”

“My master,” Ahsoka whispered. There was something about the way she said it that confused him. It was the truth, in a way. He was still technically her master whether she was a Jedi or not. But he was certain that was not the word or title she’d meant to use to refer to him, but rather the only one she thought the girls might understand.

“You’re a slave?” both of them said in surprise, but Ahsoka just chuckled.

“In a way, but I’m not complaining,” she said. “Thank you, for everything.” She nodded to them and then together they started towards the door. 

As soon as they were outside, she looked up at him. Even though he’d hoped she’d come, he was amazed she was so willing. Other than trying to feel him out about why, she didn’t seem to be questioning it at all and he felt so much appreciation for her in that moment. This was his Snips, the one fearlessly willing to go the distance no matter where it took them. The one that believed in him so much, she’d follow him even if it was a crazy plan. And he was starting to see more and more what Constantine had said about her. 

He pulled the second robe out of his bag that he’d snuck out of the Jedi temple earlier. She just took it and threw it around her shoulders. Then he handed her the lightsabers she’d left behind. She stared at them in surprise for a moment and then took them gently, turning them over in her hands. 

“You kept them?” she whispered with emotion. 

“Of course,” he said. “I always hoped you’d come back to reclaim them, but since I have no idea what the future holds now, I want you to have them with you. Jedi rules or not.” 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, looking up at him again. He knew what she was really saying; was he sure he wanted to choose her, leave the order and Padmé and everything? No, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about anything, but it kind of felt like, even though she was giving him a chance to change his mind, it was already too late. And maybe that was the paranoia creeping in again, the one that told him he was always living his life on the edge of a precipice. That one stupid mistake could cost him everything. So what was he doing? Not waiting for the mistake, for all he knew, he was choosing it.

“Oh come on, Snips,” he said, trying to joke the fear away. “You know me, I’m never sure about anything.” The tears started welling in his eyes and he turned away, blinking to get rid of them before she noticed. But of course she’d noticed. She always noticed. 

She stepped in front of him again, reaching her hand up to touch him on the cheek. “Anakin,” she whispered, her voice soft and soothing. “I know how scary it is to walk away from everything you’ve ever known. “But I also know that you’re strong enough to handle it. You have it inside you, you just have to let go of that fear. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you it will be easy, but I promise you, I’ll be right beside you. No matter what.”

“You don’t think less of me for doing this?” he asked nervously.

“Of course not,” she said. “It takes a lot of bravery to carve your own path in life. If anything, I admire you more for taking this step.”

“Really?” he choked. 

“Really,” she said simply, giving him a reassuring smile. “Even though you’re scared, I’m glad you’re making this choice. The Jedi might need your help, but you need to take care of yourself too. For as long as I’ve known you, you put everything, _too much_ , on your shoulders. There’s nothing wrong with needing to step back and rest.”

“That’s not how the council sees it...” he murmured.

“You know as well as I do, the council is wrong. About a lot of things.” He was surprised by the sudden passion in her voice and he no longer could question why she’d never come back. 

He reached out and touched her face, surprising himself with the need that was pumping through him. Constantine was right, he supposed. He’d been trying so hard to deny what Ahsoka meant to him, but faced with her promise to stay with him and her comforting words, her willingness to drop everything to follow him into the unknown and the way she built him up when everybody else tried to bring him down... how had he never seen what she meant to him? He really _was_ blind...

He wanted to kiss her again, to feel the warmth and the promise seep inside his soul not just draping over him. But even though it felt like he was choosing Ahsoka by doing this, he still wasn’t ready to let go of Padmé yet. Not completely, maybe not at all. He needed time to figure things out, to know what he really wanted, to answer that question that had been nagging at him since the first time the P.I. had said it to him. _What do you seek?_

And the reason he’d gone to Ahsoka, the reason he’d asked _her_ to leave with him, to be there while he searched for this, was not because he was tempted to throw his all into a different relationship, but because he needed her support. He needed the only person he had he could lean on. He needed her wisdom, her guidance, her patience and... Constantine was right... _one he needed, the other he wanted_. And apparently, his pain in the neck little padawan he’d been dumped with years earlier had become the one he couldn’t live without. If only he’d known that before getting married.

“Ahsoka,” he whispered, dropping his hand. “I... I...” The words caught in his throat but he had to say it. “Love... you. But... I don’t want to give you false hope that this means...” 

She took his hand and squeezed it, before looking up at his face and giving a reassuring smile. “I’m coming with you because you asked me to,” she said. “Not because I’m hoping you’ll fall madly in love with me.” She glanced away for a moment looking deep in thought. “I don’t think you realize how much I understand you.” She met his eyes again. “How much I know.”

He instantly thought about Constantine also saying she left to remove herself from his way, so that he could have what he really wanted. The cruel irony now was that the one that had left was the one he wanted the most. 

“You’re my friend, Anakin. First and foremost. And if that’s what we stay, it won’t change what I’d do for you. Walking away from the order means breaking yourself down to the core of who you are when nobody is there to tell you anymore. I would never expect you to make that kind of decision in that state. It’s more important to me that you find your answers. Then... then we can see if we still fit in each other’s life after that.” She smiled again, looking a little bit sad but trying to hide it. 

“Do you want to fit into my life?” he asked before he could think better of it. And while instantly regretting the question, he also really wanted to know. She’d walked away before, from the order, yes, but also from him. Maybe she didn’t really want to be there and was just being her usual supportive self...

She seemed to bite her lip as if to stop it from trembling before breaking their eye contact and looking away. He stared at the back of her head as she gave a deep sigh. “When I left, I was trying to escape everything, not just the council and their decisions, but you too. I didn’t think you’d understand and I didn’t want to drag you down. I’ve spent the last month trying to convince myself that what we had wasn’t special, that you wouldn’t miss me, that you wouldn’t come after me. As far as I knew... you had everything you wanted and needed there, and I wasn’t really part of that.”

She turned around finally and looked up at him again. There were no tears, only pain; sorrow, longing, loss.

“But no matter what I told myself, I couldn’t let you go. I knew... you were meant to be a part of my life. That you’d always be a part of me even if we never saw each other again.” She brought her hands up and rubbed her arms like she was cold. “If after you rebuild your pieces, there’s still room for me, there’s nowhere I’d rather be,” she breathed.

He studied her face for a few minutes while her eyes drifted distant. There was something she wasn’t saying, something that hinted her words weren’t completely true. He felt them in his soul, like they mixed with his blood and pumped through him. It wasn’t that he questioned she cared or even that she loved him. That was more and more obvious every second he was around her now that his eyes were open. But there was something in the last sentence, something that suggested she believed helping him with this would write her out of the picture. For good... 

“Do you want me in _your_ life?” he choked.

“What kind of question is that?” she asked in exasperation. “I just said-” He took her by the shoulders, surprised to realize she was trembling. It hadn’t been obvious until he’d touched her, but he felt it ripple through him too. He wasn’t completely sure what it meant, but it bothered him. She was hiding so much under her usual calm, her fearlessness, her support of others.

“You don’t know what you seek either...” he said as it dawned on him. “And you’re scared it’s going to walk you away from what you want.” 

He dropped his hands and straightened. That was the fear. That was the fear that blinded him, that was the fear that pumped through him day in and day out. The one that made him grasp so tightly to everything and everyone he knew. What he wanted was something familiar, something he knew, something tangible, quantifiable. But what he _needed_ might be none of that. So rather than chase the longing and the answers, he fought to stay where he was, resisting anything and everything that ripped it out of his life.

“I can’t do this, Ahsoka,” he gasped, dropping to his knees. “I don’t want to know, I don’t want to...”

“Hey,” she said softly, kneeling down in front of him and taking his hands in hers. She rubbed little circles with her thumb on the backs of his, though he could only feel it with his left hand. “Sometimes not knowing is far worse.”

“But...”

“I know it goes against the traditional ways of the Jedi, but I don’t think we’re supposed to be the same way forever. I think we’re meant to change, to learn to grow. I think our experiences should shape our beliefs more than traditional texts or teachings. And where that leads us, we won’t know until we get there. But staying in one place, blindly following only because it’s all that we know... I think that’s worse.” She squeezed his hands tighter and dropped her chin. “When I took the Jedi out of myself, I didn’t know who I was at all. But I still acted like a Jedi even when I was trying not to. It doesn’t mean these things we have now won’t still be a part of us, it just means we’ll see them for what they are rather than believe they’re all that there is.”

He looked up at her face, surprised to see a woman looking back at him. This wasn’t his little kid padawan who had the arrogance of someone that believes they know everything. This wasn’t the child that he’d known and in some ways raised. This was a woman who was intelligent, brave, understanding and strong, who could walk a path no one else he knew really could. And in that moment, he really wanted to be more like her. The irony, he supposed, was that she’d always tried to be like him. Now... she was what he wanted to be.

“Wherever this path takes us, even if we part again in the end, it doesn’t change that we love each other. It just means our time in each other’s lives has passed. And depending on the answers we seek and find... that could be the better way.” She looked up at him again, her big blue eyes deep and brilliant. “But until then, we’ll be side-by-side, where we belong right now.”

He pulled her awkwardly into a hug and held her close. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand. That it took me so long to come find you. I had no idea how strong you were that day because all I saw was failure. How you failed me and the Jedi and the Republic. But I was wrong, I was so wrong. I’m the one that failed you and I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t, Anakin,” she breathed, muffled against his chest. “Maybe you didn’t understand, but you didn’t fail me.” She tipped her head back and brought her hand to his face. “I didn’t think I was being strong that day, I thought I failed at everything. Now I guess, we both know better.” She pulled away and got to her feet, reaching out a hand to help him up. “Life without the order will be far scarier than endless battles, because the enemies we now have to face are in our heads. But if we help each other, I know we’ll get through it. We’ll win this war. And maybe the other one too.” She smiled up at him, that optimistic attitude he’d been missing since she left. “Where to first?”

“I don’t know...” he murmured. “I don’t know where to start looking.”

“Then let’s start at the beginning.” She gestured for them to move forward. 

“Do we really have to go that far back?” He asked, struggling to hide the rush of disgust he felt at the thought of returning to Tatooine again. 

“Well considering how much you hate talking about it, I’m guessing there’s a lot of unresolved issues there.” She started moving down the street and he hurried to catch up with her.

“I buried all of it in the sand years ago, I never want to dig it up again!”

She didn’t even slow down. “Then I’ll dig and you fight.” 

“What if I can’t fight it?”

“Then we’ll face it together.”

“I don’t like this.” He crossed his arms.

“I know.”


	7. Chapter 7

It took him a second to register whatever had hit him because he was staring at the closed loading ramp door of the cargo freighter they’d hitched a ride on. Yet whatever it was had come from that direction and had somehow made it through the tiniest of gaps as it closed, before hitting him in the chest and falling to the floor. 

He bent over and picked it up, opening the note. Two words, that was all it said; _Good choice._ He exhaled in annoyance and shoved the note into his pocket just as Ahsoka came up beside him.

“What was that about?” she asked curiously. 

“It’s a long story,” he grumbled and turned his back to the door as the ship shuddered and felt suddenly weightless, an indication they were finally on their way. He didn’t know what was worse, that he was actually running away without telling anyone or that Constantine truly believed it meant he’d picked Ahsoka. For some reason the latter was bothering him the most. Despite the P.I.’s seemingly constant dead stare, he could still picture the gloating smile that he’d been right all along. He still wasn’t ready to give him _that_.

But Ahsoka didn’t know about the detective’s childish methods of throwing notes, nor did she know he’d returned to him after he’d done the job for advice, and right now, he didn’t know how to explain either without sounding like a lunatic. He was already stressed out enough about running away from the order, from responsibilities, from _Padmé;_ the last thing he needed was the only person with him suddenly questioning his sanity. On top of that, they were on their way to Tatooine and he feared whatever he was supposed to find there. 

All that lived there was a painful past, the worst death imaginable and something he should regret but didn’t. Worse than all of that was knowing Ahsoka might somehow find out about it. He might not regret the actions he’d taken following his mother’s death, but he was terrified of her finding out. Someone like her would only be able to look at it with disapproval. She would never understand and she’d never believe his actions were justified. She hadn’t lived it, she couldn’t know what it was like, or how abhorrent the sand people truly are. He who never wanted to talk about his past, who’d never wanted her to pry, would now have to pour it all out. The dread of that was eating him alive.

“Anakin?” She touched him on the arm and he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Whoa,” she said, putting up her arms when he held up his lightsaber. “Look, I know there’s a past on Tatooine that you don’t want to face. I don’t know what it is, but I’m not an idiot, Anakin. If you don’t let me in, I can’t help you.”

He tried to release the death grip on his weapon and hook it back to his belt. “I’m sorry, Snips,” he whispered. “I just... I’m on edge about all of this. Not just the journey down memory lane. I’m worried about the consequences of leaving.”

“Hey,” she murmured softly. “Trust them. You taught them well, just like you taught me. Whatever happens, it’s not your fault. You can’t break yourself into a million pieces and still expect to be whole. I know you’re dreading this, but... I truly think not doing it would be way worse. If we’re both going to build a future for ourselves, we have to start by facing our past.”

“The Jedi never wanted us to look back... and neither did my mother...” he sighed and dropped down on a crate, his face in his hands. “The last thing she said to me was to be brave and to not look back.” He rubbed his face, trying to ignore the tears. “I regret that I never did. I would give anything to see her face again.”

Ahsoka sat down next to him and set her hand on his back. “I don’t think she meant for you to never look back, I think she knew if you did right then, you wouldn’t go. And while I can’t imagine how hard that must have been, she was trying to give you a better life.”

“Maybe,” he choked, trying to pull himself together. “But... living without her has been utter agony. Sometimes I think... I’d have preferred staying a slave just so I could’ve had more time with her.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time and he didn’t really blame her. What was she supposed to say? No words could ease the pain and regret he carried, or drown out the voice that screamed of his failure to save her. Nothing would bring her back to life, nothing could change the past, nothing could give them another chance. 

“I can’t imagine a love like that,” Ahsoka whispered after awhile. “To live a life of misery just to stay with someone.”

“I love you like that,” he said without thinking. Though his heart started racing the moment it registered what he’d just said. “I mean, I... uh...” He looked away. Where had that come from? Was it even true? He knew he _did_ love her, but... enough to stay a slave just to be with her? If he ever found Constantine again, he was going to give him a piece of his mind. Now he was all confused. 

His thoughts jumbled around in his head for a long time, and while he wasn’t sure how long, it suddenly occurred to him that Ahsoka hadn’t said anything in response to such a crazy admission, or lie, if that’s what it really was. He didn’t know anymore. But what he _did_ know, was it wasn’t like Ahsoka not to push if she had good reason to wonder about it, and he could say for certain, his behavior was all over the place; if she was concerned, she wasn’t showing it. 

He risked a glance over his shoulder surprised to find that she wasn’t sitting there anymore. When had she moved? Where had she gone? Why wasn’t she saying anything about it? And maybe almost more frightening, why hadn’t she said it back? Well, that was a dumb question, nobody ever said it back. Not that kind of love anyways. 

He looked around the cargo hold and finally found her sitting on her knees behind some crates. She appeared to be meditating. He didn’t want to disturb her but her silence was bothering him, a lot. He sat down quietly in front of her and studied her face. Her expression was mostly neutral as one usually is when meditating, but the longer he watched, the more he noticed small streaks of pain. The tensing of muscles, the slight downward curvature of her lips, every so often she’d even flinch. He rolled his lips and furrowed his brow, suddenly curious, and concerned.

Had the trial and departure from the order severed her ties to the force? Or at least damaged it? Had something worse happened during or after that he didn’t even know about? There were ways she was so much like he remembered and yet, now that he thought about it, she didn’t really seem like her old self. In fact, she seemed quieter, more reserved, more private. Like she didn’t want to open up or let anyone in. She hadn’t smiled much since he’d found her again, at least not any of her genuine happy smiles. All of them had been clouded with sadness or an attempt to reassure him while hiding something behind the expression. He’d been so busy panicking about all of it, he suddenly hated that he hadn’t really noticed. Or wondered. Or even asked if she was okay. He’d just waltzed back into her life and practically expected her to drop everything to solve his problems. Which hadn’t even been the reason he’d sought her out to begin with.

“Ahsoka?”

“I don’t remember my mother,” she whispered, her voice broken and sad. “Sometimes I try to, I feel like it’s right there out of reach but I can’t!” She let out an angry exhale, which admittedly surprised him. He’d never really seen her angry before. “I wonder if my mother loved me. If she would have done anything for me. Had she given me up in the hope I’d have a better life too?”

Her eyes fluttered open and he sucked in a breath. There was so much pain in them it rocked him to the core. Ahsoka had always been steady, strong, fearless, but also optimistic and unbothered by most things. But now he saw a life of pain and hurt and heartbreak. He saw betrayal and mistrust reflected in her eyes. 

“In some ways I’ve longed for the love you just expressed but...” She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s really love.” His heart thudded in his chest as her words sunk into his skin. “I wouldn’t want someone to be a slave for me. I wouldn’t want to know they gave up an opportunity to be free because of some misguided thinking that staying was better for the other person. Even if they had to leave me behind, I’d so much rather they be free. What your mother did for you, and maybe what mine did too... that’s real love. They let us go, they gave us a chance for a better life, even if that meant they couldn’t be with us anymore. She had faith in who you’d become and she was willing to suffer to give you that.”

He felt frozen, her words hurt. They made him feel cold, uncertain, confused.

“If you really love me, Anakin, then I want you to be free. I don’t want you to be enslaved for me. I don’t want you to be stuck somewhere for me. I don’t even want you to give anything up for me. I love you in ways I can’t possibly comprehend but... when I left... I let you go. Because, because... I felt like that was the only way I _could_ love you anymore. You weren’t mine, I didn’t want you to be my slave. Or a slave to your feelings. I wanted you to live and if what you had there was what you wanted then I gave you that freedom to choose it.”

Everything Constantine had been saying from the beginning started tumbling through his brain again. How he’d been so sure Ahsoka loved him and that he loved her too. How he’d said she left to let him have what he wanted so why did he go after her? How he described the difference between needs and wants. And how he was so sure Ahsoka was the right one and he knew it too. 

He rubbed his head at the memory of the way the P.I. had bonked him. “I don’t know what to say,” he whispered finally. Despite the mess of words pooling, no coherent sentences formed. Nothing that could reassure her or contradict her. Nothing that could tell her how he felt or what Constantine had said. Nothing formed. 

The thought that his mother had willingly stayed a slave, had told him to be brave and to not look back, to give him a better life... and yet... he wondered everyday how being a Jedi was better. Was he squandering her sacrifice by leaving? Was that why Ahsoka looked so hurt and broken too? What she’d said about her own mother? Having to live with that knowledge that sacrifice had led them to this?

“Then don’t say anything,” she whispered and looked away. 

“But-”

“The gesture is nice, Anakin. But until we figure out what love really means, I don’t think we should say it to each other.” She rose gracefully, almost hauntingly, as though it had taken next to no effort to in one movement be on her feet. “It’ll be awhile before we get there, so I’m going to go get some sleep.”

He watched her go in disbelief. Was she just protecting herself or did she really feel that way? She’d said she loved him but then said they shouldn’t say it. Did that mean Constantine had been right about her knowing about Padmé?

A thought struck him and he ran after her, grabbing her arm. “Do you... _uh_... spend time on the holonet?” he asked when she looked up at him.

“Sometimes, why?” 

“But do you search for things? For people?” he persisted. 

“Well I often have to look for parts or part dealers, sometimes instructions for things. What’s this about?” She crossed her arms. “I also follow the news, of course.”

“Have you ever searched-“ he swallowed, “for me that way?”

“Why would I need to do that?” He let out the breath he’d been holding.

“No reason, nevermind,” he choked. “Get some rest.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring,” she muttered, but then shrugged and headed into the bunk room off the cargo hold they’d been given permission to use. While they hadn’t explicitly planned it out, he had no intention of sleeping while she did. It was unlikely they’d be in any kind of dangerous situation before reaching Tatooine, but with all his insecurities right now, they would be taking turns keeping watch. If for no other reason, to be sure the order didn’t find out where they were or where they were going. 

He felt guilt bubble up inside his chest at the knowledge that running away meant disappointing Obi Wan, abandoning his troops, failing the chancellor and worrying Padmé. He knew it was wrong, he knew he shouldn’t have done it. And after what Ahsoka said, he was probably letting down his mother too. 

And maybe it wasn’t too late to tell the pilot to turn around, to go back, to apologize for the missing time and continue on as he had been before. But... the things Constantine had said, the things Ahsoka said... they were stopping him from returning right now. Paralyzing him on this new track he’d never been on before. He _had_ to know. He had to. But what would it cost to know it? Did Ahsoka truly believe losing everything that mattered to you really could lead you to something better? If it was true, why didn’t she seem happier? Unless she wasn’t there yet either.

He sighed in annoyance. He was going to go crazy before they even made it to Tatooine. This was insanity! He headed after Ahsoka towards the bunk room. Even if he had no intention on sleeping right now, he wanted to be closer to her. Even with everything she’d said, she felt safer than being out here alone. At least when she was nearby he knew he wasn’t about to face all of this on his own.

He went into the small room. She was lying on her back with her eyes closed on the right bed. She looked calm and peaceful, like she’d already fallen asleep in the brief few minutes before he’d followed her. He watched her steady breathing for a moment before finally sighing and sitting down on the floor between the two bunks. He made sure he was facing the door and crossed his legs. 

He wished he felt more confident about this. The last time he remembered being this afraid was when he left Tatooine the first time. He’d had no idea what awaited him out there, and no one that bothered to reassure him that it was the right choice, the better way. 

He was drowning so deeply in the memories of his first few months as a Jedi that it took him awhile to notice that Ahsoka had rolled onto her side and was staring at him. 

“I know you were a slave,” she said thoughtfully. “But what could possibly be in your past that you fear so much?”

He didn’t open his eyes because he really didn’t want to look at her right now. And he didn’t have an answer he felt comfortable giving. He half thought about not opening his mouth either. “Tatooine is a horrible place,” he finally said. “If you’d lived there, you’d understand.”

She sighed and rolled onto her back again. “Yeah I know, it’s run by the hutts. There are foul gangsters, it’s a haven for bounty hunters, smugglers and scum of the galaxy. There’s gambling, drinking, slavery, and countless other sins. The dunes are dangerous and so are the natives. There’s barely enough water for people to survive and you often have to risk everything just to keep them running. I read all about it in the temple archives before I left.”

“If only that truly covered the atrocities that existed there,” he muttered. “There’s a difference between reading about it and living it.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall of the ship. “I thought you were going to sleep?”

“Well I was trying to, but your fear is so loud I can’t relax.” She sat up on the edge of the bed and looked him over. “Would you rather us go to Shili first?”

He glanced up at her. He didn’t want to be rude, he knew this was something that had to be done, even if he didn’t like it. But her offer to hurt first kind of surprised him. Unless she was already hurting and he was too busy drowning again to notice?

“What happened when you left?” he asked in concern. “You seem... different.”

She leaned back and dropped her hands in her lap, shadows darkened her features. “I grew up,” she whispered finally. “I learned things weren’t black and white, that I didn’t really know anything about anything. I lost my ability to call on and feel safe in the force, no longer confident in how I’d been taught to use it. Overnight my world went from making sense to making no sense at all. And when I saw my reflection in the mirror, I just saw a stranger looking back at me. How could I be the same after that?”

He saw a tear slip down her cheek before she tried to hide it. “That’s why you didn’t come back...”

“I’m no Jedi,” she choked. “The one thing I was always certain about, became the one thing I couldn’t be.”


End file.
